


A Mirror For You

by spacemannataliedormer



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 19:52:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6920740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemannataliedormer/pseuds/spacemannataliedormer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don’t know anything about any murders, Sansa thought. Well, except for the one this afternoon. </p><p>Sansa Stark witnesses a murder just before her life becomes a chaotic hell. What's more, Jon Snow is trying to solve the crime before it's too late. Both are running from things, but maybe this murder will tip them over the edge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mirror For You

A baseball bat to the skull. The body dropped; dead weight. Ramsay looked around him, searching for any witnesses, but the alley was empty save for him and the dark haired boy on the ground, his last words disappearing into thin air.

Thin air only by expression. The Kings Landing climate was thick humidity, mosquitoes buzzing everywhere, the sky always blue and cloudless. Sweat ran down Ramsay’s back, and his hair was pasted to the back of his head. _Snow_ , he thought. _My last name just had to be Snow_. He loathed the stinking city, with its busy streets and never-ending heat. He loathed the people too, the ones either too cheery or too glum. He never wanted to leave the North, but his father commanded it, forcing him to move to the capital.

“Make good friends,” Roose Bolton had said. “Friends that will help your family.”

So much for making friends. All Ramsay had achieved in the last three months was drinking, and gambling, and killing anyone who claimed he owed them. He hadn’t spoken to his father since he’d last seen him at the airport, two miles from his hometown Dreadfort. Roose called, but he always let it go to voicemail. The occasional Facebook update was the only indication Ramsay gave that he was still alive.

He hid the body in a dumpster, underneath heavy black bags filled with garbage, and walk out of the alley with nonchalance. Out on the street, he fished a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and a matchbook, and struck the match along the edge. He was exhausted, and a cigarette always lifted his spirits.

A young red-head passed by him, tall and confident. She had the most striking blue eyes he’d ever seen, and she had a dog walking beside her. Something about her fascinated Ramsay, and he snubbed out his cigarette on the brick wall behind him, beginning to walk in step with the girl.

“You have a lovely dog,” He said, gesturing to the animal. The girl looked scared, peeking around the street, searching for a getaway. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to hurt you. I just wanted to ask about your dog.”

“She’s a Direwolf, purebred, and a gift from my father.” The girl spoke beautifully, her voice melodic and smooth.

Ramsay smiled and stuck out his hand. “I’m Ramsay, a dog enthusiast of sorts.”

“Sansa,” She took his hand and shook it firmly. “Sansa Stark.”

“You!” The shout came from across the street. There stood a tall man with a bushy beard, pointing straight at Ramsay. He had a mean look in his eyes, and as he began to cross the street Ramsay took off at a run, leaving Sansa watching the scene unfold. The bearded man caught Ramsay near the end of the street, and tackled him to the ground. The two threw punches, but Ramsay gave the final blow, picking up his baseball bat and cracking it across the other man’s skull. He dropped like a sack onto the ground. As Ramsay stood, he locked eyes with Sansa, who was backing up, fear written all over her face. Something in him sunk, and he hoisted up his baseball bat and turned the corner, leaving the street.

Sansa tugged on her dog’s lead. “Lady, walk.” She dragged her in the opposite direction of Ramsay, down into another crowded street, heading for an apartment building a few blocks down. When she reached it, she fished out her key and unlocked the door, and boarded the elevator going up. Her flat was on the fourth floor, shared with a brown haired martial arts instructor called Loras and his boyfriend, Renly. The couple had taken Sansa in when she was searching for an apartment after escaping her old one and its bad memories. Renly had turned out to be the uncle of the bad memory, but he never spoke to his vile nephew, trying his best to stay away from the devil boy Joffrey.

The door swung open before Sansa could touch it, and Renly stood behind it with a grin on his face. “I heard Lady breathing through the door.”

“You’re creepy,” Sansa shoved him out the way. “I just saw a man murder another man on the street, five minutes from here.”

“Seven hells, did you call the police?” Renly went to the kitchen and grabbed two glasses from the cupboard. He filled one with water, for Sansa, and one with beer for himself. Sansa watched him, his handsome, ripped body hidden underneath a tight black t-shirt and jeans. He hadn’t brushed his hair, or trimmed his beard, and he looked nothing like the lawyer he was.

Sansa took the glass of water gratefully and drank. “No, I ran. The man had tried to talk to me, said his name was Ramsay. He was kind of creepy. Should’ve known he’d be a murderer.”

“Ramsay? Like, Ramsay Snow, son of Roose Bolton, mayor of Dreadfort? Gods, he’s always in magazines up North, always getting himself into some kind of scandal. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize him. I mean, his father always does business with yours.”

Sansa gave Renly a look that said, _Do you really think I care what my Dad does?_

“Regardless, Ramsay is kind of infamous in the North, last I checked. I guess you wouldn’t know, since you’ve been away for so long. Speaking of which, how’s university going? Loras’s sister is transferring to KLU in a month. She’ll be staying with us for a while, sleeping in the spare bedroom.”

“Renly, my bedroom was the spare bedroom.”

“Oh, right. I guess she’ll be on the sofa then.” Just then, Renly’s phone buzzed. He picked it up off the counter and read the message. “It’s Loras. He wants to go out for dinner. Will you be okay here on your own?”

“Oh yeah,” The red-head said, putting her glass in the dishwasher. “I’ve got my good friends Netflix and popcorn to keep me company.”

Renly smiled and gave her a hug. “Alright then. I’ll go change, and then I’ll be off. See you later.”

Sansa gave him a mock salute, collapsing on the sofa as he wandered into his bedroom. She thumbed through her text messages, answering some and ignoring others, killing time before she had the house to herself. She was nearly done reading them all when a new one popped up, from her mother, asking about the murders around Kings Landing.

 _I don’t know anything about any murders_ , Sansa thought. _Well, except for the one this afternoon._ She typed up an answer to her mother and put her phone down. A stack of takeout menus sat on the coffee table, neatly in line thanks to her, and she picked a few up, looking through the choices, settling on Dornish food, which arrived twenty minutes later. Sansa sat engrossed in her favourite film when the buzzer rang. She let the delivery guy in and took the food graciously when he came to her door. The rest of the evening she spent watching bad movies and texting her friends, slowly sipping the disgusting beer Loras always kept in for himself. By midnight she was exhausted, and sluggishly she hauled herself off the bed, only to dream about Ramsay Snow, killing the man on the street, with his creepy smile and harsh voice.

She woke at eight the next day, breathing in the sweet smell of pancakes. Lady was still snoozing on the foot of her bed when she stood and wrapped a sweater around her shoulders.

Loras was in the kitchen, shirtless, standing over the stove. The news was on, the top story being the murder, and Renly was still rubbing at his head with a towel.

“How was dinner?” Sansa asked, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

“Delicious. Loras gave me a real treat.” The two men kissed, Loras smiling cheekily. Renly pulled away and sat in front of the TV, switching over the channel. “He’s making me breakfast. Sorry, Sansa, you’ll have to fend for yourself.”

“Don’t be so rude, Ren. I’m making you pancakes as well, Stark. Ren’s just kidding.”

“The gesture is appreciated, but I have to be at work in an hour.”

“They’re pancakes; you can eat them running out the door.”

“Maybe I will,” Sansa smiled.

One hot shower later, Sansa was literally running out the door, late for work, with a pancake stuffed in her mouth. The bus stop just down the road was crowded, so she hailed a cab and forked out the pay. Her office was located in a small building not far from the university. She was a writer for a small-time magazine a few friends of hers had started. Recently it had blown up, and uni students were buying copies whenever they could get their hands on them. It made work harder, trying to write all the new articles, but the paycheck got sweeter and sweeter every month.

One of the head writers, a young man called Gendry, greeted her as she walked in. He was always kind to her, and nearly every morning he had a coffee be placed on her desk. This morning, instead of a coffee, Sansa found a post-it note, with the words ‘baseball bat murder’ written on it. She sighed and crumpled it up.

Work for her ended at lunchtime, and then it was school. Her journalism lecture started an hour late, Melisandre walking in flushed and hurried. She muttered an apology, fixed her blood red clothing and began speaking, gesturing with her hands, always looking exactly where she should. Sansa took notes, but the woman fixated her, and so she always recorded the lectures as well, so that she could listen to them properly at home, out of view of the fascinating red woman.

At the end of the lecture, Sansa bundled up her books, making sure she wrote down the assignment, and left the room. Outside the air-conditioning she began to sweat, and the mass of bodies didn’t help cool her down. It wasn’t until she was out of the closely packed buildings and standing on the quad that she could wipe away her forehead, and the figure walking towards her became more visible.

Jon Snow, the best half-brother anyone could ever have. Sansa locked eyes with him and began to jog in his direction, ready to wrap her arms around his body. Stupid Jon, he wore a leather jacket and jeans, all the way down south. He wasn’t sweating anywhere, though, unlike his redheaded sister.

“Sansa, I’ve missed you,” He said, a smile on his face.

“Me too! What are you doing here, Jon?” Sansa stepped away from him to properly look. His shaggy black hair was pulled back in a bun, his beard trimmed thin. He had a pair of sunglasses dangling from the collar of his shirt, and his neck had a necklace hung around it; his dogtags. He looked tired, but that was more from the long journey south than anything else.

Together they crumpled on the grass and sat across from each other, Sansa cross-legged, Jon stretching out. He ran a hand over his chin, studying his younger sibling. “I’ve been called down here to look at some murders. There’s been plenty of them, and the powers that be reckon it’s all the same person doing them.”

“There’s a serial killer on the loose?”

Jon sighed. “Yeah, and about two precincts in Kings Landing are _not_ looking for him. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”

“Well, I saw a murder happen not too far from where I live. The murderer spoke to me before, said his name was Ramsay. My roommate thought maybe he was Ramsay Snow, son of Mayor Bolton. I don’t know, though.”

“It’s a good place to start. I’ll go back to the station, tell the chief.” He stood, and gave his sister a hug goodbye. He wasn’t sure when he’d see her next, but if Ramsay Snow turned out to be innocent, he’d be in Kings Landing for a lot longer than he wanted to be.

Sansa watched him go and gathered up her things. She decided to go home, not bothering to meet up for study in the library with Jeyne. Phone in hand, she fired off a few texts, one to Loras, stating she’d be home soon, and one to Jeyne, apologizing. She had to catch a bus to get into the centre of the city, and another one to get to her block. The fare wasn’t too bad, but still she cringed. Inside the apartment complex there was almost nobody around. She boarded the elevator and rode up and fished her key out of her pocket.

Something seemed different when she swung the door to her flat open. She couldn’t pinpoint it, until she rounded the corner into the living room and saw a girl sitting on her sofa, brown hair tumbling in waves down her shoulders and eyes like a doe’s. She smiled up at Sansa, who stood frozen looking at her.

“Hello, I’m Margaery, Loras’s sister. He did tell you I was coming, right?”


End file.
